But,
by bibliophilechild
Summary: I am not nothing.
1. But,

Get your feet off of me…

How dare you assume you can just prop your filthy boots on me as if I'm nothing.

I AM SOMETHING

How can these girls gaze at you and perceive you desirable?

Can't they see how you are blatantly stating your disregard toward them?

Can't they spot me weeping?

I am _not _nothing.

I AM A SYMBOL

A symbol of how malicious you truly are

A symbol of how you view us.

We, are nothing to you.

Only a small prop you can use to your benefit.

i hate you

I hate you

I Hate You

I HATE YOU!

But,

You will never know because…

I am nothing.

I am no symbol

I am unable to hate

I am merely table

And you,

You could care less.

….

**Hi….**

**This is just a quick little drabble. I may start a chronicle of the Statues speaking out because I've always loved writing for them. Most will probably be short like this.**

**ALSO**

**A MASSIVELY HUMONGOUS HUG FULL OF CUDDLY GOODNESS to Demonbarber14 (I very much like your username….) and to TheLovelyJudy. You guys are kind of like my ACO idols so the fact you took the time to read my stuff and favorite it was a BIG deal to me.**

**Okay.**

**Bye**


	2. Tears

Tears,

They are those foreign objects that linger and sting.

They don't really solve anything though do they?

In the grand scheme of things they aren't really worth anything are they?

Tears can't stop pain.

Tears can't heal broken things.

Tears can't fix me.

Nothing can fix me now.

I am forever wrecked.

And I am not at fault for it.

You are.

You broke me

Don't you understand?

I can't replace that!

You took something that I cannot restore!

You took so much.

And you did without care.

My strength

My power

My confidence

My pride

My sense of self worth!

MY LOVE.

You stole my ability to love!

Are you fucking proud of yourself?

YOU RUINED ME.

I'm never going to be the same now.

I'm broken

I'm useless

I'm frail.

I used to be strong

I used to be powerful

I used to be confident

I used to be beautiful.

Now,

When I look in a mirror,

I only see you.

You broke me and I don't have the receipt to exchange what you wrecked.

Tears,

They are useless,

But they are all I have got.


	3. why?

Why?

I suppose that is my only question.

But then, perhaps not?

Not saying 'Why?' isn't high on my list, yet it's not the only question when I really think about it

And it's not as if the answer 'why not?' could not suffice.

It's just…

I suppose I wanted more.

Silly, I know.

This isn't what I wanted my existence to be at all.

I never asked to be a plaything.

I never asked to be placed on display in such a demeaning manner.

Sometimes, if I shut off all the sound and all the lunacy I can go away.

Nowhere fancy of course, just away.

The world goes dark and I can forget.

I no longer feel your touch,

Or hear your words.

The melancholy sensation in my chest dissipates

And for a brief moment,

I am gone.

* * *

**This maybe added into 23-42-17-9. It works well with the story, but I'll leave it here for now.**


	4. Strangers

They always said not to talk to strangers.

I never liked that rule.

If we don't talk to new people how would we ever meet anyone new?

Talking to the same people all the time is silly.

I should have taken their advice.

In the end, they are always right.

Talking to people used to be my favorite hobby.

I loved hearing other people's life stories.

Taking it all in I would keep it bottled in my chest,

every minute detail,

each little tidbit precious information.

I don't talk to people now.

Silence is my ally.

I am trying though.

Yesterday,

when the waiter asked if I needed anything I actually responded.

'Napkins please.'

It may seem stupid

But,

It's something.

Maybe I can learn to trust again?

It's going to take a while

I may trip and stumble

But maybe I can mingle with the strangers once more?


	5. It Hurts A Bit

It hurts a bit,

but I'm healing.

Maybe not.

It stings a bit,

but I'm learning

Somehow.

It aches a lot,

but I'm coping.

Every day.

It fades a bit,

but lingers.

Waiting always.

It grows a bit,

but shrinks.

Some days.

I cry a bit,

but they help.

Always.


	6. Pay

That fucking bastard.

He hurt her.

He touched my little sister.

I'm going to kill him.

She was so kind and sweet.

She was so fucking naive.

I was supposed to protect her

And

I

Failed.

She won't even look at us.

She hangs her head in shame like its her fault.

It's not.

He made her feel like this.

I fucking hate that bastard.

She used to sing and dance.

She had the brightest smile.

I can't remember the last time I saw my baby sister smile.

I want him dead.

No,

I want him raped everyday for the rest of his life.

I want him bleeding out naked on the street

I want who he admires most to find him and have to ask what happened.

I want him to have to admit someone hurt him.

I want him to feel the humiliation my sister did when I found her broken and bruise.

I want him to feel how terrible it knowing you failed at keeping someone you love safe.

I can remember the sound of her sobbing.

She didn't know it was me when I went to touch her.

She promised to be good.

Promised she would stay quiet if I

just  
didn't  
hurt  
her  
anymore.

That was the single most traumatizing moment of my life.

I could see the blood.

I knew what happened to my sister.

She did too.

He raped my sister.

And he was going to fucking pay.


	7. Sorry

Sorry is a powerful word.

You don't know that word though, do you?

Does it taste bitter on your tongue?

Does is taste as vile as the word victim taste on mine?

I am not looking for apologizes here.

I know when something's a lost cause.

Wanna know what's not a lost cause though?

Me...

You are though.

You won't amount to anything and that makes me so...

Happy

Sadistic you say?

Why of course.

You of all people should know the word well.

I cannot express the joy I feel knowing you're suffering.

It used to scare me,

but now I've come to accept it

and guess what?

I am not sorry...

Not.  
One.  
Bit.

* * *

**Hi...**

**So, its my day off! Or as I've started calling it "Anti-Social Writing Day!" I just wanted to thank everyone who reviewed and to answer the question who is speaking in my poems I guess my best answer is:**

**The people that feel like statues. The people that don't have voices. **

**Have a good day **


End file.
